Last night, we heard him fussing. And fussing. And fussing. When it didn't subside, I dutifully trudged upstairs and went into his bedroom to try and calm him down.
You see the scene I found. Sam's pants were off, his pacifier was out of his mouth, and he had thrown both on the floor. I had to leave the room to keep from laughing. Thankfully he went on to bed afterwards.
Stripping down to protest sleep is one thing right now, but I foresee much trouble if he doesn't curb this habit by college.
3 comments:
rock house.. rock house.. rock house..
I believe Sam wins. Eli never came up with anything that creative.
Also, he clearly is getting ready for the arrival of Ms. Garner.
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